


girl, you know i want your love

by andthelightbulbclicks



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 09:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9813734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthelightbulbclicks/pseuds/andthelightbulbclicks
Summary: When Clarke hears the words "Bellamy" and "car crash" in the same sentence, she freaks out.When she hears Bellamy say "Clarke" and "girlfriend" in the same sentence, she freaks out a hell of a lot more.





	

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: I have amnesia and you say you're my best friend but I keep on forgetting and thinking we're lovers au
> 
> This turned out slightly more angsty than I had planned... Also, I most definitely took creative liberties with anything regarding amnesia.
> 
> Title from Ed Sheeran :)

There have been exactly two times in Clarke’s life where she has been so consumed with fear that she is frozen to the spot, unable to move.

The first was when someone went after Wells at one of his dad’s rallies. She was _there_ , standing right next to Wells. She saw the guy’s knife seconds before one of Thelonius’s security guards took him down.

The second was the day her mom called to inform her that her dad had had a heart attack.

Both times were awful, but in the end, everything turned out okay. Wells was extremely shaken up, but he was safe. Her dad’s heart attack kept him in the hospital for a while, but he recovered.

The third time Clarke is consumed with fear, paralyzed where she stands, it’s because she gets a call from the hospital.

 _Is this Clarke Griffin?_  Yes.

 _Bellamy Blake has you down as his emergency contact_. And, _no_.

No, no, _no_. Not Bellamy.

They tell her he’s been in a car accident. That he’s conscious, and in stable condition. But they want her to come to the hospital as soon as she possibly can.

Her feet break from their frozen stance as soon as they say it. Before she knows it, she finds herself speeding towards the hospital – no doubt breaking countless traffic laws – as her brain tries to process the fact that Bellamy, her _best friend_ , the most important person in her life, is hurt. He’s in the hospital and all alone. He _needs_ her, and she could _lose_ him.

And then a fresh wave of fear hits her that might as well count as a fourth time.

So imagine her surprise when she rounds the corner to his hospital room to hear his voice, clear and strong, followed by Octavia’s.

She pauses, surprised, only to plow into the room a moment later to see him laughing for herself.

His eyes fall on her immediately as he lays in the hospital bed, Octavia sitting in a chair next to the bed with a none-too-amused look on her face. She feels herself release a breath she must’ve been holding since she got the call as a smiles breaks across his face, eyes bright.

He’s _okay_.

“There you are,” is what he says as he watches her approach, him reaching for her hand as she reaches for literally any part of his body she can get her hands on.

Her eyes scan his arms as she slides her hands over his chest, trying to feel for any wrappings or castings. She can feel his chest rise and fall as he chuckles. “Clarke,” he tries for her hands again, but she’s too busy scanning the rest of him, making her way up his neck until her hands are tracing the few scratches he has littering his face.

Only then do her hands stop as her eyes meet his, warm and smiling at her with amusement, no trace of pain.

His smile doesn’t fade as he takes in her attention on him. “Hi,” he says, again reaching for her hands, pulling them from his face, but holding onto them firmly. “I’m fine, please stop panicking.”

Which, easier said than done. “You scared the hell out of me,” is what she tells him.

_I love you._

_I thought I lost you._

_Please don’t ever end up in the hospital again._

Those just aren’t things a best friend should be saying.

Understanding graces his features, “I know. I’m sorry, I swear the hospital probably made it sound worse than it actually is.”

“They didn’t. You got hit by a car,” Octavia pipes in, who up until that point, Clarke had completely forgotten was even in the room. And, actually–

“Octavia, what are you doing here?” Clarke asks, more confused than anything.

 _My brother’s in the hospital, Clarke,_ is the response she’s expecting. But, she must look as haggard as she feels, because Octavia takes sympathy on her and spares the Blake sarcasm for once. “Bell called me once he knew that you were on the way. I was just around the corner at Lincoln’s gym, so I freaked out and ran over here.”

And well, if he was coherent enough to call his sister, he has to be okay, right?

“So why did they bring you to the hospital? For an eval?” She asks him, hands still in his, attention completely on him.

“I whacked my head off the window pretty good when the car hit mine,” he tells her with a shrug, laughing again as soon as one of her hands breaks away from his grip to weave into his curls to feel for any bumps.

And, yep, she sees him wince as she puts pressure on one she finds on the left side of his head.

“The doctor said he’s got a mild concussion,” Octavia informs Clarke as she continues running her hand through his hair, gentle to not press anywhere near the bump. “They said he could possibly have some form of amnesia, but so far we haven’t found any signs of it. He was damn lucky,” she adds with a glare that does nothing to hide the relief in her eyes.

Concussion. That, she can deal with. She may not have followed through with medical school, but pre-med did teach her how to handle those. Amnesia? That’s a little trickier.

“You know who I am, right?” Even though his eyes lit up with recognition when she walked into the room, even though he most definitely would not allow a stranger to hold onto his hands so tightly, he even said her name. But she still needs to hear him say it again.

His smile is indulgent. “You’re Clarke Griffin. I’m Bellamy Blake. It’s 2017. Don’t worry, they already ran through the questions with me. I passed with flying colors, just have a little bit of a headache.”

He’s clearly doing it for her benefit, but there is relief in hearing him tell her he knows who she is. The pit her stomach starts to unravel, seeing him smiling at her, knowing that he’s going to be fine.

The doctor comes in then, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning Bellamy’s chart.

“Okay, Mr. Blake,” he says as Clarke pulls away to give the doctor access to Bellamy. She wants to grab back onto his hand as soon as she lets go. “It seems like you’re in the clear to be released, as long as you have someone to keep an eye on you over the next twenty-four hours for concussion symptoms.”

“That would be me. I’ll be taking him home,” Clarke chimes in.

The doctor’s eyes fall on her. “Good, and you are…”

“My girlfriend,” Bellamy tells him at the same time she says, “his emergency contact.”

In all honesty, it takes a second for it to register. And then her head is whipping to stare at Bellamy in shock as Octavia’s mouth drops open.

And while Octavia and Clarke remain speechless, Bellamy and the doctor continue on with their conversation about him taking an easy and taking the prescribed medication for his headache, completely unfazed by the girls’ lack of contribution to what they are saying. Clarke meets Octavia’s gaze to insure that they are at least on the same page, and Clarke didn’t somehow miss a monumental moment in her life.

“Uh, doc?” Octavia interrupts. “Can I talk to you outside for a sec?” She turns to walk out of the room, and the doctor nods and follows. Octavia gives Clarke an extremely unsubtle ‘you need to talk to him’ look as they walk out into the hospital hall.

“What was that about?” Bellamy asks once it’s just the two of them. She turns towards him, and finds that she has absolutely no fucking clue where to even start this conversation.

“Um, well,” she starts, walking over to sit in the chair Octavia had vacated, careful to resist the urge to reach for his hand again. “What exactly do you think we are, Bell?” His eyebrows scrunch at the question. “I mean, who am I to you?”

“You’re my girlfriend,” he says slowly, as if he was the one breaking news to her. After she doesn’t respond, not knowing what to say, she watches as his confusion rises. She has to avert her gaze at the look in his eyes. “You are my girlfriend, right?”

She’s surprised at her reaction to hearing him say it aloud. The desire, the want hits her hard. Because of course that’s what she _wants_ , but that’s not what they are to each other.

“Bell,” she starts, and her heart breaks a little at how his face shutters closed at her tone. She powers through by pure force of will. “We’re uh, we’re best friends. You’re my best friend, but–”

“I’m not your boyfriend,” he finishes for her. “We’re not dating.”

She’d been staring at her hands folded in her lap, but she can’t _not_ look at him when he says it. She watches as a flush creeps up his neck.

He’s _embarrassed_.

He’s in the goddamn hospital, got hit by car, and she’s embarrassing him.

God, this just _sucks_.

“But you’re my emergency contact,” he justifies. Which, yes, that is true. “And we live together.” She can see as he starts to second guess everything that he didn’t even think could be false ten minutes ago. “We do live together, right?” And again, that is true too.

“You didn’t pull away when I held your hands,” he argues.

Well shit. She’s so stupidly obvious.

“We are very tactile people,” she tries. “And yes, we live in the same apartment. But–,” she pauses, swallowing past the lump in her throat, “it’s because I’m your best friend, and you’re mine. We’re roommates.”

“Roommates,” he echoes as she watches him process.

When he snorts without a hint of amusement, her heart breaks just a little more. “I guess we found the amnesia. I’m assuming O is filling in the doctor as we speak.”

“Bell–”

“It’s fine Clarke,” he interrupts, “I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions.”

She stares at him as he busies himself with getting out of his bed. “Let me help you,” she says, reaching for him, but he pulls away as she reaches out. The action puts a fear in her that’s all its own.

The hurt must read clear as day on her face, because his face softens as he looks at her. “I’m okay, I promise. I just want to get home.”

And that, that she can do.

The doctor goes through another round of testing for amnesia symptoms when he comes back in the room after hearing what Octavia had to say about Bellamy’s lapse in memory.

They establish that the only one is him forgetting that Clarke is his best friend. And nothing more. The doctor says it should pass. Bellamy should have his memories straight again in a day or two.

But as they’re about to leave, release papers signed, the doctor says to make sure Bellamy is woken up every few hours because of the concussion, and Clarke reassures that they will. Bellamy wraps his arm around her and leans in to kiss her on the cheek, like he’s done it a million times.

Which, again, they’re tactile people. But they’re not _that_ tactile, and he has definitely never kissed her casually like that before. But now she knows the feel of his lips on her cheek, the warmth they leave behind.

And she knows without even having to ask, that he forgot again that she’s his best friend.

He thinks she’s his girlfriend, again.

* * *

She tells him on the car ride home, and it’s even worse the second time in part because she has to keep her eyes on the road and the silence is deafening. She can’t even get a read on his face because he’s shuttered off, for the second time today, after being an open book to her for years.

She feels like she’s breaking up with him. Which, that’s crazy, right? They were never dating, _have_ never dated.

She _wants_ to date him.

But she tells him the truth, and she listens to him become flustered and embarrassed again, as if he was causing her discomfort. He apologizes, again.

And really, she should tell him the whole truth. How she _wants_ everything that he thinks they already have. And she’s _so close_ to doing it, but then she thinks… what if he forgets again?

What if she pours her heart out to him, only to have him forget?

By the time they’re pulling into their apartment complex, he thinks she’s his girlfriend, again.

And Clarke hasn’t told him a thing.

* * *

She can’t bring herself to tell him again. For both of their benefits.

She doesn’t want him going through the stress of finding out he has amnesia (again), and her heart can’t take much more of him shutting her out.

So, she goes with it. It can’t possibly be any worse than telling him the truth for a third time.

* * *

“So, you’re just going to let him think that you’re in love with him?” Raven asks, in a tone that only Raven Reyes could pull off: incredulous and unimpressed with a touch of sympathy, all in one.

“No!” Clarke jumps in immediately, “I mean, yes? God Raven, I _am_.” She plops herself down on the couch, phone to her ear as her other arm folds across her eyes. “Tell me what do to, I’m completely lost here. How do I tell him that I’m not his girlfriend _again_ when I want exactly that?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “That,” Raven says, “that is literally what you tell him. ‘Hey Bellamy, I know you have amnesia right now, but even when you don’t, I still want you thinking I’m your girlfriend.’”

Clarke just sighs in place of answering.

“Or you can just jump him.”

Clarke snorts in answer, then glances over at the clock. “Thanks for the pep talk. I need to go wake him up.”

“You tell that boy Clarke Griffin! You wake him up, then crawl into his bed. Cuddle him, spoon him, I do not care. Just do _something_ ,” she tells Clarke in typical Raven-fashion.

Clarke rolls her eyes as she stands up to head towards Bellamy’s room. “He was in a car accident, Raven. He has a concussion and amnesia. Sparing my feelings is the last thing he should be worrying about right now.”

“He won’t spare them! He _wants_ those feelings!”

She mumbles some form of half-assent to appease Raven as she hangs up the phone and cracks open Bellamy’s door just enough for her to sneak in without shedding too much light into the room.

It takes her eyes a moment to adjust, but when they do, her eyes fall on him immediately. He’s wrapped in his blankets, chest rising and falling steadily, calming her with each steady breath he takes. She’d be embarrassed by the smile on her face if anyone was looking at her right now.

She walks over to the side of his bed, kneeling down until she’s on eye level with him. “Bellamy,” she whispers as she threads a hand into his hair, feeling for the bump she knows is there. It’s definitely gone down, soothing her even more.

He starts to stir as she continues finger-combing his hair. He mumbles a little, then opens his eyes sleepily. “Hey,” he grumbles groggily.

“Hey,” she responds. “How’s the head feeling?”

She watches as he thinks of what she’s talking about, remembering the accident, the hospital. “S’okay,” he answers before closing his eyes again.

“Do you want some medicine?”

“No,” he murmurs, almost unintelligibly. “Just you,” he adds after a moment, opening his eyes again to look at her.

She gasps at the sincerity in his voice, the openness in his eyes. She has to remind herself that what he sees is his girlfriend coming to check up on him, not his overbearing best friend who’s pining over him.

“Come lay down,” he tells her while reaching out to pull her towards him, completely oblivious to her racing thoughts. She resists for less than a second before crawling in beside him, letting him wrap her up in his warmth.

They’ve fallen asleep on the couch together more times than she can count, this is the same thing. Just, in his bed.

Same thing.

And, she is tired.

So she sets alarms on low on her phone for every couple of hours to check on him, and allows herself to fall asleep to Bellamy’s breaths against her neck.

* * *

He’s fine, every time she wakes him.

She’d be fine too if he didn’t pull her that much closer every time he falls back into slumber.

And she just can’t bring herself to pull away.

* * *

When Clarke’s last alarm goes off in the morning, she wakes up to an empty bed.

She’s disoriented for a moment, waking up in Bellamy’s room with no Bellamy in sight. The panic sets in right after that, realizing there’s _no Bellamy in sight_ and she needs him in her sight. Like, 24/7, for at least the next week, if not year after what he went through yesterday.

She leaves the room immediately, praying he didn’t wander off in some confused state, only to find him sitting at their table, glass of water in hand.

He’s been waiting for her, if the way his head turns toward her the moment she walks out of his room is any indication.

“Morning,” he says, but she barely hears it, too busy scanning every inch of him she can see.

She halts, noting how his face is completely closed off.

“Hey,” she responds slowly as she forces herself to move, to approach the table, “how are you feeling?”

She tries gauging some sort of reaction from him as she stands in front of him, but–

But nothing.

He’s giving her nothing, showing her nothing. He turns in his chair, as if to get up, and she watches as a muscle jumps in his jaw, which can only mean one thing.

He watches her, expression remaining blank as she walks into his space, her standing with his knees brushing the outsides of her legs. He remains still, continues to just watch her as she reaches out with her hands to once again run them through his curls, knowing how that normally calms him.

Except, it doesn’t.

“You know who I am?” She whispers, continuing her calming efforts despite his nonreaction. She follows the line of his throat with her eyes as he swallows, notes his hands tensing around his legs instead of reaching out for her.

Her body skips from panic straight to dread.

“Bell–”

“You’re Clarke Griffin,” he cuts her off, meeting her eyes determinedly.

“And you’re Bellamy Blake,” she continues, still waiting for–

God, what is she even waiting for at this point?

“And you’re my best friend,” Bellamy tells her, tone emotionless, eyes flicking away from hers. “I was in a car accident yesterday, have a concussion. Had amnesia,” he adds, with an unamused laugh. “It’s okay Clarke, I remember everything.”

 _Had_ amnesia. As in not anymore.

He remembers _everything_. Including being embarrassed not once, but twice for misinterpreting their relationship and her _snuggling_ with him all night during a time when he was weak and vulnerable.

She stops her ministrations on his hair, wrapping the curls around her fingers gently to tilt his head up so he has to look at her, the blankness she sees chipping away at the semblance of calm she is trying to desperately hold on to. She takes a moment to trace one of the scratches left on his face from the crash. Accepting that she’ll never touch him like this again and savoring the last moment she has left before she pulls away, Clarke steps back until she’s just out of his personal space, hands falling to her sides.

“I’m sorry,” they say at the same time, both jerking their heads up to look at the other in confusion.

Clarke can’t help the urge to argue that flares within her at his apology, because he is the _last_ person who needs to be apologizing here. “What the hell are you sorry for?” She demands, “Getting hit by a car? Yeah, I can tell you did that on purpose.”

Bellamy shakes his head, takes a frustrated breath. “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. I crossed so many lines,” he cringes, “I put you in such an awkward situation, and I’m so sorry that you felt pressured to play some kind of role just to spare my feelings.”

She stands there for a moment, completely dumbfounded. “Spare your– _That’s_ what you think?” She asks, shock coloring her tone. “You think I was going along with some kind of fucking _role_?”

When Bellamy winces, Clarke’s entire body deflates. Of course he’d be thinking of the effects all of this would have on her, it’s such a Bellamy-thing to do she can’t believe she’s just seeing it now.

She just wants to break this cycle of apologies, and misunderstandings, and miscommunications for good already.

Clarke takes the two steps towards him again, his eyes carefully following her every movement. This time, however, she kneels down in front of him. He leans back, moving his hands so that they fall to his sides, leaving room for her arms to settle on the tops of his thighs, her fingers threaded together between them. He looks down at her in surprise, barely taking a breath.

She watches him as he watches her.

She takes a breath, prays she’s not destroying what she values most.

“I love you,” she tells him, his eyes widening as if he truly had no clue. “I love you,” she goes on, “and I was so scared yesterday that I lost you that I may never let you out of my sight again.”

Bellamy doesn’t move a muscle as Clarke lets go of her own hands.

 _All in_ , she supposes, their faces inches apart, Bellamy as still as a statue. “I love you, Bell, and if you never want to talk about this again, I’ll– It’ll be okay. Because you’re here. You’re safe, and I can’t lose you Bellamy, I _can’t_ ,” she rambles as Bellamy’s lips move to press against her own.

As ready as she was to kiss him seconds before, she’s completely thrown to have _him_ kissing _her_. But then she catches up and she’s pushing back against him eagerly, arms wrapping around his neck, lips moving in tandem with his as she tries to get as close to him as she possibly can.

When Bellamy pulls away, they’re both trying to catch their breath and Clarke’s body is thrumming. “God Clarke,” he sighs, head tilting to look at her. “I woke up with you in my arms and thought I’d destroyed everything,” he tells her hoarsely. She watches the emotions race across his face, happiness and hope warring with worry and fear.

“You didn’t,” she assures him, pulling herself up so that he’s resting his head against her shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She feels him tuck his head into her neck, resting his lips against her skin. “I love you too,” he says, goosebumps rising where his lips move, “so much. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you for forever. Our friends have been tormenting me for months.”

She lets herself smile into his hair. He _loves her_. They’ve been complete _idiots_.

“Me too,” she whispers, “But, just for clarity’s sake… I’m your best friend, and I definitely want to be your girlfriend too. I want to date you, Bellamy.”

She pulls back to see the full force of his smile. “I’m so in love with you,” he says before brushing his lips against hers again. “You had to know that, god, I kept thinking we were _dating_.”

“You’re not going to forget this, right?” She jokes, leaning in for another kiss, knowing she’s only half-kidding.

He chuckles, but then sees what she’s trying to say. “Trust me Clarke,” he cradles her face in his hands, “this is something I won’t forget.”

“Good,” she responds, leaning into his touch. She stands up, pulling him with her. “Your head feel okay?”

“My head feels great.”

“Still,” she prods while pulling him towards his room. “I think we should make sure you’re well rested. I have doctor’s orders to keep an eye on that head of yours all day. Plus,” she quips, “I didn’t get to fully appreciate waking up in your bed with you actually in it.”

Bellamy laughs as he lets her drag him towards his bed. “You propositioning me for a nap, Griffin?” He asks as he bounces onto the bed behind her. She sees the stress of the past day etched in his face, even if they’re both on overdrive with happiness.

“I absolutely am.” She pulls the covers over them and wraps her arms around him. “You’ve got me through thick and thin.”

She feels Bellamy hum contentedly, pulling Clarke’s arms tighter around him.

She settles in, knowing Bellamy is safe, loved, and healing.

And, they’ve got time (and memory) on their side.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm accepting prompts on my [tumblr](http://andthelightbulbclicks.tumblr.com/).


End file.
